Set to Music by Mr. R. A. Smith.
THE sun has gane doun o'er the lofty Benlomond,
And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene,
While lanely I stray in the calm simmer gloaming,
To muse on sweet Jessie, the flower o Dunblane.
How sweet is the brier wi its saft faulding blossom,
And sweet is the birk, wi its mantle o green;
Yet sweeter, and fairer, and dear to this bosom,
Is lovely young Jessie, the flower o Dunblane.
She's modest as ony, and blythe as she's bonnie,
For guileless simplicity marks her its ain ;
And far be the villain, divested o feelin,
Wha'd blight in its bloom the sweet flower o Dunblane.
Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the e'enin,
Thou'rt dear to the echoes o Calderwood glen ;
Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winnin,
Is charming young Jessie, the flower o Dunblane.
How lost were my days till I met wi my Jessie,
The sports o the city seemed foolish and vain ;
I ne'er saw a nymph I would ca my dear lassie,
Till charmed wi sweet Jessie, the flower o Dunblane.
Tho mine were the station o loftiest grandeur,
Amidst its profusion I'd languish in pain,
And reckon as naething the heicht o its splendour,
If wantin sweet Jessie, the flower o Dunblane.
Note by R. A. Smith.—" Perhaps the most popular of all his songs was, ‘Jessie, the Flower o Dunblane.’ Many a bonnie lass whose name chanced to be the same with that in the song, has been in her time the supposititious heroine of it, and got the blame of having ‘cuist the glamor o'er him,’ though with little reason, for I do sincerely believe the poet had no particular fair one in his eye at the time, and that Jessie was quite an imaginary personage. The third stanza of this song was not written till several months after the others were finished, and, in my opinion, it would have been more to the Author's credit had such an addition never been made. The language, I think, falls considerably below that of the two first verses. Surely the Promethean fire must have been burning but lownly, when such commonplace ideas could be coolly written, after the song had been so finely wound up with the beautiful apostrophe to the mavis,—
'Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the e'enin.'
When I had composed the music, Jessie was introduced to the world with this clog hanging at her foot, much against my inclination and advice ; however, I feel confident that every singer of taste will discard it as a useless appendage."
Note by Ramsay.—“ ‘Jessie, the Flower o Dunblane’ was first ushered into the world in 1808, and since that time no Scottish song has enjoyed among all classes greater popularity. For this, it is indebted at once to the beauty of the words, and the appropriateness of the music composed for them by the Poet's friend.” After quoting the remarks of Smith respecting the clog, Ramsay says—“In this opinion, we concur. When viewed in con¬nection with the preceding stanzas, the third does appear to be deficient in that callida junctura which it would have manifested had the whole been struck off at a heat.” After quoting Smith's remark that Jessie was an imaginary personage, Ramsay says—“The same belief, founded on the best authority (the Poet's own assurance to them), is entertained by his surviving friends and relations ; but, notwithstanding, a writer in the Musical Magazine for May, 1835, gravely assures us that he, having had occasion to visit Dunblane some sixteen or seventeen years previously, was then introduced to an elderly female who was represented to be the heroine of the song, but who formed the exact counterpart of the pure creature of the Poet's imagination;—and coachmen hesitate not to point out to travellers the very house in Dunblane in which ' ‘Jessie’ first saw the light. The truth is that Tannahill never was in Dunblane, and knew no person belonging to it; and that the words were written to supplant the old doggerel song of the ‘Bob o Dunblane,’—hence the title. As for the allusion to the going down of the sun ‘o'er the lofty Benlomond.’ the poet needed not to go to Dunblane to witness such a spectacle ; in his evening walks on the Braes of Gleniffer it formed the most imposing object of the scene,—‘towards heaven's descent sloping its west'ring wheel.’ ”
On Saturday, 27th June, 1874, a curious coincidence occurred respecting spontaneous communications of information regarding the heroine of this song, “Jessie, the Flower o Dunblane,” and the heroine of the “Fareweel,” No. 77. In the morning of that day, we received a letter from a gentleman in France stating ; that his grandaunt, Jean Crawford, afterwards married to Andrew Smith, cottonspinner, in the Mill Land, now 56 George Street, Paisley, son of Bailie Andrew Smith at the head of Causeyside, had frequently stated that she was the chief companion of Jenny Tennant, the betrothed of Tannahill; that the “Fareweel” was Tannahill's version of the breaking of the engagement betwixt them, and the following was that of Jenny Tennant :—Another beau of a weaver had agreed to attend the Annual Dance of the district with which he was connected ; but not having an engaged sweetheart, he asked Jenny Tennant if she would accompany him as his partner to the Ball, and she informed him she would require to ask Bob's (Tannahill's) consent. She did so, and obtained it. As the day approached, Tannahill became uneasy, and he resolved to watch their behaviour on returning from the Dance, and accordingly concealed himself in the end of the passage to Jenny's residence, where he could see and not be seen. The dancers arrived in the passage, exchanged the usual salutations, and the new beau on leaving, fired with the evening's enjoyment, implanted a kiss on the ruby lips of the beautiful Jenny Tennant, and the smack was quickly wafted in the midnight silence to the impatient ears of Tannahill in his hiding-place. The kiss formed no part of the contract of the consenter to the Dance ; the Tannahill pride was touched ; the silver chord of Love was snapped; and the green-eyed demon of Jealousy instantly entered his soul.
The following day Jenny Tennant received from Tannahill the poetical “Fareweel.” The last verse of the first stanza, and the first verse of the last stanza, stung her heart to the core, and she gave vent to her distress in weeping:—
“But when I knew thy plighted lips
Once to a rival's prest,
Love-smothered independence rose,
And spurn'd thee from my breast.
The fairest flower in Nature's field
Conceals the rankling thorn ;
So thou, sweet flower! As false as fair,
This once kind heart hath torn.”
On her grief subsiding a little, she ran with the epistle to her favourite female companion, Jean Crawford, for counsel ; and drowned in tears, and with a sobbing heart, handed it to her, saying— “See what Bob has sent me!” On Miss Crawford reading over the final “Fareweel,” she deeply sympathised with the disconsolate Jenny so borne down with grief, and remarked that Bob would be lost to her for ever. Andrew Smith died in 1810 ; and Jean Crawford (Mrs. Smith) died in 1857, in the 84th year of her age.
In the evening of the same Saturday, we happened to be accidentally in the company of several gentlemen, and the conversation was principally directed about Tannahill and the recent centenary celebration of his birth. One of the gentlemen said he would mention a circumstance not generally known, that Jenny Tennant, his grandmother, was “Jessie, the Flower o Dunblane,” and that her parents had come from Dunblane, and taken up their residence in Paisley. He stated that the tradition in the family of the rupture between Tannahill and his grandmother arose from the silence of the Poet in their lonely walks ; and on his grandfather coming forward for Jenny, she preferred him. He mentioned other corroborative circumstances in support of his statement, and asked if we had heard of Jenny Tennant. We nodded assent, and read over the letter we had received from France that morning, at which he was very much surprised, for he thought no person knew anything of the matter up to the present time except in her own family.
Our two spontaneous informants were unknown to each other, and their information was derived from the traditions in two different families,—the latter referring to the “Flower o Dunblane,” and the former to the “Fareweel,” but both agreeing in the name of the same person. We tested the information given by both parties along with the corroborative circumstances mentioned by each, and found what each stated to be both truthful and reliable.
With the view of satisfactorily completing this very interesting investigation, we wrote to a son and granddaughter of Janet Tennant, resident in Canada, and received a communication from them, which we consider will set the matter at rest. They stated that Jessie Tennant, the name which these Canadians called her, was born in Dunblane in 1770, and afterwards came to Paisley with her maternal parent, taking up her residence in or near John Street ; that she became acquainted with Robert Tannahill, and kept company with him for three years, and they frequently danced with each other,—one of the places being the hall of the Masonic Lodge, New Street, Paisley. That Tannahill was of a very quiet retiring disposition, and bashful in the extreme,—in fact, requiring to be instructed in the art of Love ; while Jessie, on the other hand, was a blithe hearty maid, a pretty woman with winning manners, and that “bonnie lasses generally flirt a little to bring blate lads to the point.” The tradition among Jessie's descendants of the course of true love not running smooth was the failure of the Poet to carry on the conversation in their long lonely walks together, after the sun had gone down over the lofty Benlomond. He, however, could and did write sweet and lovely verses, and they have no doubt whatever that the beautiful and popular song of “Jessie, the Flower o Dunblane” referred to Jenny or Jessie Tennant, their parent and grandparent. The feelings of love between the two gradually cooled, and was finally extinguished by the “Fareweel” (No. 77) :—
“Accuse me not, inconstant fair,
Of being false to thee,” etc.
The rival pressed on his suit, in which he was successful; and they were married in 1798. On the raising of the Volunteers in 1803, the husband of Jessie, the gallant weaver, was appointed bandmaster of Colonel M'Kerrell's Regiment. Several of their children emigrated to Canada, and two of their sons are still living, and several grandchildren. Jessie Tennant died in Orr Square, Paisley, in 1833, aged 63 ; and was interred in the Lair, No. 552, of the burying-ground of the West Relief Church, Canal Street, Paisley. These Canadian families have no doubt whatever that Jessie Tennant, their relation, was the heroine of the “Flower o Dunblane,” a sweetheart of Tannahill, and the same person referred to in the “Fareweel.” So convinced are they of the truth of these facts that, on each recurring New-Year's-Day, they sing the songs of “Jessie, the Flower o Dunblane” and the “Fareweel.” They sent us a copy of the “Fareweel,” and we observed several words are not the same as in the printed editions ; for instance, the word “plighted” is pledged. We have tested the statements, and found them substantially correct. We next examined the Lair-Book, and found the Lair, No. 552, belonged to her husband's family ; and observing a deleted jotting, we asked and received an explanation of it. We then called on one of the individuals referred to,—an octogenarian gentleman —who happened to be a nephew of Janet Tennant's husband, and he showed us the original certificate of the Lair, No. 552, dated 21st November, 1792, and signed by John Watson, treasurer. We then inquired if there was anything peculiar respecting Janet Tennant, and be, quite offhand, replied that she was Tannahill's lass, which was well known to the family at the time.
We may here state that Tannahill became intimately acquainted with William McLaren in 1803, and R. A. Smith in the beginning of 1804. M'Laren has related inhis biography of the Poet that the only amour Tannahill had was the one in connection with the song, “Accuse me not.” Smith has said “thethird stanza (of ‘Jessie, the Flower o Dunblane’) was not written till several months after the others were finished.” Perhaps he would have been nearer the truth if he had used the word “years” instead of “months,”—the difference of composition indicating they had been composed in a dissimilar frame of mind. We are of opinion the first and second stanzas were written during his courtship of Jenny Tennant, and suppressed at the publication of the first edition, but not destroyed, from the excellence of composition. The song appeared in the Scots Magazine of March, 1808, and Smith composed music for it, which was published by J.Stevens, Wilson Street, Glasgow. The song became very popular from Jack Shaw, a comic singer and an eccentric comedian in the company of Mr. James Moss of the Paisley Theatre singing it there, and also at Braham's Concerts in Glasgow and London. We have given a fuller account of Jack Shaw in the Notes to a letter from Tannahill to Smith, dated 27th August, 1808, enclosing a copy of the song for Mr. Shaw. The reader is accordingly referred to that letter, which seemed at first sight not worth printing, but has ultimately become the most romantic in the whole Correspondence.—Ed
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